How To Be Dead
by MetrionZinthos
Summary: one shot songfic. Style! How To Be Dead by Snow Patrol. Stan makes a drunken mistake, and Kyle isn't too happy.


**Disclaimer: I still don't own South Park, or any of the songs I use.**

_Song: How to Be Dead by Snow Patrol_

A/N: The song meaning is quite confusing. Like the first chapter. Once again, my friends at helped me figure this out. It's about two people arguing. In this songfic, those people are Stan and Kyle.

Stan's POV.

--------

It's finally out. My confession, it's out. I love Kyle. No doubt about it. But the way he found out wasn't exactly the way I wanted him to find out. Can't say being high and partially drunk, and started kissing him, informing him of my love for him would be the best way to do it, wouldn't you agree? The look in his eyes is burning in my brain. Horror. The same look that was in his eyes when I turned goth in fourth grade. The same look when he got beat up, and I did absolutely nothing to stop it. The same look when I held a gun up to his head. That's all that be could seen. Any smart person could figure out that was no chance of us being "together". I knew what I was doing, when I tried to make out with him. I knew _exactly_ what I was doing. But the drugs gave me the courage to do it. He probably doesn't know that it wasn't just the drugs. Unfortunately, something is telling me to tell him otherwise, and that I love him. This is going to go horribly wrong.

**Please don't go crazy, if I tell you the truth  
No you don't know what happened**

But before that happens, I have to figure out where I am. Okay, let's see. Door, door, door, and another door. And stairs. Nice carpeting…oh, I'm in a hall. That's some odd wallpaper, with some odd stars on it…wait…I'm in Kyle's house? He must of dragged me here, when I passed out after drinking some more. Huh. Even after I try making out with him, he still takes care of me.

Damn, I love that redheaded Jew.

"Kyle?" I shout in the somewhat empty house. I hear a muffled reply that almost sounds like Kenny's voice. Kenny! He might be able to help….but Kenny didn't wear his parka today…I think. It must be Kyle, and it sounds like it's coming from his room. Grasping the blanket that was laid upon me when I woke up, I attempt to open the door, but I fail. Obviously Kyle doesn't want to see me. That would explain the rude shoving the door in my face act.

"What Stan?" Kyle sounds angry, and confused. He's probably still thinking about what happened. Shit. Part of me was hoping he'd forget that…

"Kyle, let me talk to you," I whisper into the door, and of course I know he can hear me.

"No!" Wow. Homophobic, much?

"DAMMIT BROFLOSKI! LET ME IN!" shocked silence follows my words. Predictable silence, though. I never scream. At him, at least.

**  
And you never will if  
You don't listen to me while I talk to the wall  
This blanket is freezing, it's been out in the hall**

"No Stan," From what I know about Kyle, I can tell he's sad. God, what did I do to this guy? Dammit! What did he do to deserve this torture? Sighing, its sadly obvious to know what he's thinking. I stare at the blanket. It's blue and green. Smiling, I hold it closer to me. I had given that blanket to Kyle when he was in preschool. Now the memories are flowing back. And I clutch the blanket closer to me, almost like if I hold it tight enough, this will all be forgotten. The blanket escapes my grasp when I hear his voice.

"What do you want?"

**  
Where you've had me for hours  
Till I'm sure what I want  
But darling I want the same thing that I wanted before**

I have this strange urge to say 'you' but I know that would be way too corny.

"Maybe a chance to talk?" And of course, Stan Marsh sounds like a girl.

Kyle has to be talked to. Maybe this will be all sorted out. Ha. Stan Marsh is far from an optimist. Why am I saying theses words?

**  
So sweetheart tell me what's up **

A deep sigh can be heard from inside Kyle's room. Shocked and relieved, I travel into his room, even though I'm sure I didn't hear an invite. He walks to his bed and sulks on it. Any smart person would not have sat next to Kyle, sensing the tenseness in the room, but Kyle was always the smart person, not me, wasn't he? But this feels _really_ uncomfortable. Maybe I should just go away….

**I won't stop, no way**

**  
**No dammit! I will tell him. Taking a sharp intake of breath, I ponder how the hell I'm supposed to tell him about my newfound crush. The best way I can think of, is to just say it, plain and simple.

"I'm gay for Kyle Brofloski." There. It's over with. Now I can just go home…off the bed. Away from here. Now. I will leave now. Why aren't I going? Oh right. Kyle is staring me at me like hell just walked right in here, and slapped him across the face. Or Cartman hugged him, or something. Oh god. He's absolutely quiet for a long time.

"WHAT THE HELL?" He screams. The sudden yell in the silent house almost causes me to fall off the bed.

**  
Please keep your hands down**

**And stop raising your voice  
It's hardly what I'd be doing if you gave me a choice**

"Don't yell at me," he has a perfect reason to, but I don't think I deserve to be yelled at. I sure as hell wouldn't be yelling at him if he said he was gay for me. Well, of course I wouldn't. Although I'm not sure how I would feel, because I don't know how he's feeling. I should find out. There might be hope, that he is gay though. Risking every possibility of sound like a girl, again, I ask.

**  
It's a simple suggestion **

"Think Kyle, do you, uh, sway that way for me?" Looking down, I anticipate the answer. I've wanted to know this for the past two years, since I was 14.

**can you give me some time**

Kyle seems horrified that I asked that, like the answer is obvious. But apparently it's not.

"I'm….I'm not sure." Looking up, my facial expression is 100 readable. Emotions of _'what the fuck!?!?!' _and _'…holy shit!' _with the side effect of _'dammit, is he messing with me'_

**  
So just say yes or no**

"It's a yes or no question Kyle!"

"And maybe I'd rather not answer it" He glares, and the horror from his eyes is back again. I keep doing this to him, and he doesn't deserve it. Damn Stan Marsh.

**  
Why can't you shoulder the blame? **

"How long?" Right now, all Kyle wanted to do was ask questions. May be he's realizing there is no escaping this. Maybe he's realizing that the best thing to do is just ask questions.

"About two years ago, around the time that Kenny swallowed that explosive bomb and died," I replied. He nodded, and took everything in.

**  
Cause both my shoulders are heavy  
From the weight of us both**

He looked at me with his beautiful emerald eyes, and the horror was replaced with another emotion. Sadness. Which is even worse than horror, from my point of view.

"Why Stan?"

"I love you Kyle," I mutter. He hears me, and looks away. I sit closer to him, just to hug him, but he pushes me away. I guess he thought I was going to kiss him or something. Well after that fiasco, I would have done the same thing. Not really, but if I were him, in that state, I would of, I think. Or maybe not. Not quite sure yet. Huh. I'm confused. Are you? I know I am…

**  
You're a big boy now **

"Stan! Grow up!" He growls in frustration, which scares me. I'm almost as mad as he is. I finally come out of the god damn closet and I'm being yelled at. Yeah, he just found out that his super best friend has been gay for him for two years now, within one night. But I deserve some god damn respect! If he doesn't stop talking to me like this, I will have no choice to call him as much of a homophobe as Cartman! Which we _all_ know is horrible, even if you share just one characteristic with that fatass.

**So let's not talk about growth**

"Don't tell _me_ to grow up Kyle, you're the one who's is overreacting" Okay, maybe not. But, I sound and look fierce, and it's not that bad of a comeback.

"You still haven't answered my simple question!" It's my turn to conduct this conversation. Damn, the guilt is really coming to me. And so is the anger.

"It's not that simple Stanly!" Aw, dammit. Stanly? He's really serious now. Well, I could be serious too. Even if I sounded like dear ol' Fatass.

"Dammit Jew!!!!" Getting up from the bed, I start pacing, "are you gay?" The last three words are hushed, as if the room was bugged. Where is his family anyways? Mumbling, he collapses on his bed, and buries his head in the pillow. He should know better than trying to cover his voice. After all, I've been friends with Kenny just as long as I have with Kyle.

In fact, Kenny was the one I confided in with the whole Kyle situation. And if my drugged memory is mistaken, wasn't he the one who gave the drugs in the first place? And that small bottle of beer, which I somehow managed to get drunk on. Straining to hear his voice, the word 'why', I can tell, is being repeated over and over.

**  
You've not heard a single word I have said...**

My pacing slows to a stop, and I sit where I am. Was he not listening? Deciding not to answer Kyle, I stare up at his ceiling, which is covered in pictures of memories. He'd somehow managed to get a picture of a Cartmanland ride. Wincing, I look away. The picture he has was the one that showed Kenny's death. The next picture makes me smile, its of the four of us at school. Kenny and Cartman are playing some shooting game, like always, and Kyle and I are just sitting there, watching them. _Whoa, how did he get a hold of Bebe's note?_ Tacked on the ceiling, was the old note from third grade in which Bebe detailed about Kyle's 'hot ass'. Which I admit, would have been funny, if I wasn't forced to read the note in front of the whole class. Kyle **did** have a hot ass though.

**  
Oh, my God**

"Oh, my, god." We declare simultaneously. At first, its funny. Then I realize why I said it. There's a picture of me up there hugging Kyle. Oh, and I just ruined our friendship completely. I wonder what his reason was? Wait, never mind. Stupid question, that's a very stupid question. And you're a very stupid Stan Marsh, Stan Marsh. HOW DO YOU SLEEP AT NIGHT STANLY??? I'm really being a burden to myself…

"Kyle, I'm sorry," Once again, I move next to him on the bed, and surprisingly, he lets me. His head is still buried in his pillow. Kyle's messy auburn hair is buried under his green hat, with strands of his hair sticking out.

"Why Stan?!?!!" He **really **knows how to make me feel guilty, and although I deserve it, I wish he would stop.

**  
Please take it easy it can't all be my fault**

"It's okay Kyle," he receives a reassuring pat on the back from the person he'd least like to talk to.

"No! It is **not** okay!" By now, he has rolled over and is staring at the ceiling. "I mean, I was about to ask someone out else for god's sake! It's not that I liked her…but still! I wanted to go out for once….and then here you come along all high and drunk! And then you start _kissing_ me! KISSING ME! NO! THAT'S _**BAD!!!**_ Super Best Friends do NOT kiss each other!!!! Now everyone probably thinks we're gay, I mean you're gay, sure, no problem with that, since you are, no offense, not that I mean to cause any offense [Kyle receives a nod, but me? They think I'm gay! For you! Probably not going to be surprised! But dammit, what are they thinking now! Shit! What did you get us into?!?!"

I'm surprised that he went on this long. He breathes in, finally. I was getting worried.

**  
I haven't made half the mistakes  
That you've listed so far**

"Kyle, man, chill. They know I was high, they probably aren't thinking about that. I mean, you were partially drunk too…" Kyle doesn't look very convinced….whatever. And I shouldn't have said that last part. He's glaring at me. Again.

"I was **not** drunk!" he defends himself. I roll my eyes, its useless to argue with me, when I have clear proof. I have enough Polaroids to prove it, courtesy of

"Then explain to me why you were trying to make out with Tweek's coffee?" I pull out picture number one out of my jacket pocket. He winces, and takes it away from me. I let him have it, even though he rips it up.

"And why you were trying to grope the piano?" Picture number two. Kyle squeezes his eyes shuts. This must be painful him.

"Oh, and I don't even want to know why you were doing _**this**_." Picture number three has Kyle laying on a pool table, with Red hovering over the table. And what is he doing with that cue stick? Wait a second…THAT'S DISGUSTING.

Kyle opens his eyes, just to scream in horror, and close his eyes again. When he hears me ripping the photo up, he opens them back up. He looks apologetic.

**  
Oh baby let me explain something  
It's all down to drugs**

"Okay, maybe I was drunk, but you were HIGH!"

"High on life sure." He sits up from his position, to hit me. At least he made physical contact with me….

"I'm serious Stan. You would never take drugs. Why did you take drugs?" I stare at him, my head tilted to the right. Did he really just ask that?

"Sorry, obvious answer." I nod skeptically.

"But, you were high Stan! I can't believe you!" I'm the one to glare this time. Damn him and his protective…ness.

**  
At least I remember taking the and not a lot else**

"I had a reason to." He sighs in frustration. I lean forward to hug him, and he lets me for a while. But he soon pushes me away.

"No. No. No!'

"Sure, Yes, Yeah." I counteract him with optimism. He rolls his eyes.

**  
It seems I've stepped over lines  
You've drawn again and again**

"Stop this."

"Not until you tell me how you feel!" Dammit. Girly Stan is back. And look like he's staying for a while. Kyle seems to notice this, and raises his eyebrows. There's some silence between us, but being the Super Best Friends we are, we crack up. Kyle stops suddenly, and leaves me laughing by myself. I catch the look he's giving me, and I stop laughing too. What is he looking at?

"What?" I ask "politely". Ugh. It kills me to use those words.

"I—" he begins, but stops, ands looks down. Is Kyle nervous of something? I speak what's on my mind.

"Kyle, Kyle! Wassamatter?"

"You know very well wassamatter!" Its hard not to laugh after he says that. He declares it with anger in his voice, which just makes it even more hilarious. Covering my mouth with my sleeve, I stifle my laugh. I look up at Kyle, and there's a pleasant lopsided smile on his face. Success! I think. I smirk. And I kiss him once again.

He struggles, and he tries to push me off._ I should not be doing this_ .

I won't let him. He grabs my shoulders, and I brace myself to be knocked off. But he just pulls me closer. _Holy shit. _

**  
But if the ecstasy's in, the wit is definitely out  
Dr. Jekyll is wrestling Hyde for my pride**

I pull away, unsure if this is really what he wants. He's probably still drunk! We're both breathing heavily, and he looks at me confused.

"Kyle, are you sure?"

"Stan I…." Kyle trembles in worry.

"Yes?"

"I'm gay for Stanley Marsh." The redheaded Jew—no, **my** redheaded Jew repeats the words that I had said with some edit.

Before I get the chance to even grin in happiness, he pulls me in again and kisses me hard, so hard that we didn't even hear the flash of Kenny's Polaroid taking a picture of us.

When we pull apart, we see Kenny standing there with a triumphant grin on his face, pointing up.

Kyle and I look up and on the ceiling, there a new picture tacked by Kyle and I hugging each other. And despite how cliché it is, I seem to love the fact that I am up there on his ceiling, kissing my super _gay_ best friend. And it seems like Kyle does too.


End file.
